


it's so boring...

by startswithhope



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: Maybe what you never thought you'd want is the exact thing you need.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 14
Kudos: 175





	it's so boring...

“Where’s Roxy?” David yells, hating that he knows he won’t have a voice left after another night at this horrendously over-hyped nightclub.

“Didn’t you hear?”

Maxwell is looking at him like he just bit into a sour olive, his perfectly manicured eyebrows crinkled in undisguised annoyance. He’s insufferable. But so are most of David’s friends, so he fits in perfectly.

“Hear what?”

“God David, how are you always so out of the loop?”

_Because you are all terrible people who only call me when you need someone to cover the tab._

“She’s engaged. To a kindergarten teacher of all things.” 

Maxwell stands up and scans the crowd below their VIP perch, probably looking for some hot guy he can dance with just so he can post the photo to his Instagram. Obviously spotting his prey, he drops his drink onto the glass table and pushes his way around David to the stairs. 

“Who would want that life, it’s so boring.”

Before David even has a chance to voice his agreement, Maxwell is just a blur of platinum blonde hair descending into the sweaty depths of regular people swarming the ground floor of the club.

_Yeah, who would want that life?_

He’s alone again. The _thump-thump_ of the music pounds between his ears like a hollow drum, each beat a reflection of the emptiness that is his entire existence.

_It’s so boring._

He’ll head home, he thinks. 

As soon as he pays the tab.

_🌹_

He’s not awake, not fully, the quick press of Patrick’s lips against his temple enough to drag him to the surface of consciousness, but not open his eyes. Soon after though, he smells the caramel. Squinting, he spies his mug in its usual place on the nightstand, the sweet steam beckoning him like a siren. Reaching for the coffee, he pushes himself to a sitting position and takes a sip, slowly letting the sugar and caffeine seep into his veins. 

Patrick is singing in the shower again, prompting David to smile against the rim of his mug. He can’t quite make out the words, but Patrick’s got his audition for “Sweeney Todd” coming up soon, so it’s probably something from that. That reminds him, his mother had asked him about how to source a large quantity of stage blood. He needs to add that to his to do list.

The emptier his mug gets, the more David’s mind begins to come back online. Before he knows it, he’s scribbling notes and reminders in his journal as he swings his legs over the side of the mattress, feet sliding effortlessly into the soft cocoon of his Uggs. The shower turns off and that’s David’s cue. Shuffling over to the kitchen, he grabs the bread from the counter and perches two slices in the toaster so they’ll be ready for Patrick to heat up. Opening the cabinet, he pulls out one of their small plates and places a banana on top just as he hears the bathroom door open behind him.

“Morning.”

Patrick’s voice wakes up the last sleepy bits of David’s body, tiny jolts of electricity pinging his nerve endings as he hears his familiar rustling around their bedroom.

“Good morning,” he replies as he pulls out the peanut butter and pops off the top. 

He still has his spoon in his mouth when Patrick emerges from around the corner, jeans and socks on, but his chest bare and still glistening from his shower. He’s sure his cheeks are pinking up as he indulges himself in a bit of ogling, but he doesn’t care. Patrick loves it. The way his chest rises and his muscles flex as he comes closer giving that away. 

Patrick’s in his space now and David finally looks up, the expressive depths of Patrick’s gaze always a lot to take in this early in the morning, but his capacity of what he can handle where Patrick is concerned is apparently an endless well. Pulling the spoon from his mouth, he goes to say something witty about Patrick’s attire not being appropriate for the store, but is thwarted by warm lips and Patrick’s solid frame pressing him backwards against the countertop.

His tongue tastes of toothpaste, reminding David suddenly of his own morning breath, making him momentarily want to pull back. But Patrick is undeterred, one hand moving to David’s neck to keep him close as he nibbles on David’s bottom lip. David’s breath catches as the cool spot from Patrick’s wedding ring presses into his skin, it’s newness still revelatory and somewhat hard to fathom.

_Yeah, who would want that life?_

“You taste like peanut butter,” Patrick mumbles into David’s cheek, the corners of their smiles meeting briefly before Patrick is pulling back and moving to push the button down on the toaster.

David just stands there smiling, watching as his husband putters around their kitchen, doing normal morning things like adding more hot water to his tea and pulling meat from the freezer to defrost in the refrigerator while they’re at work. He does his usual prodding of David to eat more than just a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast, knowing full well that he’ll be sent over to the cafe for a coffee cake muffin after their morning rush. David just stands there, smiling and nodding, occasionally playfully sparring as Patrick eats his toast with his hip propped against the counter. 

_It’s so boring._

All the while, there’s the thump-thump of his overflowing heart, life spreading throughout his limbs and down to his fingers, pulsing steadily beneath the four gold rings on his fingers, each beat a reflection of a life so full. 


End file.
